


Back to Her, And I Go Back (To Us)

by kind-of-always-late (intransient_adventure)



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/F, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:13:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4774919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intransient_adventure/pseuds/kind-of-always-late
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosima and Delphine can't seem to handle each other's presence after their breakup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Back to Her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tumblweed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumblweed/gifts).



> This is apology smut for tumblweed. Thanks for the prompts! I promise never to fade to black again.
> 
> Anonymous prompt: can you do one with Cosima and Delphine as exes and they’re in the same group of friends and every time they’re alone together at a get together they end up fighting and then having really hot sex and they’re like “we really need to stop doing this” but they can’t and it keeps happening and it’s rly hard bc they never rly got over each other even though they’ve tried and they just end up saying “fuck it I love you” and etc

It’s exhilarating, really. The way her blood still rushes to her skin at the sight of her. The difference now, though, is that she feels the heat rising in her ribs and in her throat. Feels the tension balling in her fists instead of pooling in her abdomen, instead of settling in the space between her thighs. And it’s expected, isn’t it? That a feeling this strong would culminate in something like this. It makes sense. After all, it wasn’t as if she could simply _avoid_ her, what with their inextricably intertwined network of friends. What with that whole being-in-the-same-PhD-program situation. Yes, they would have to _learn_ how to be civil with one another. Even after everything. Even though she still seethes at the sight of her.

Even though – currently – she can’t stand to be near to her. Even though – at the moment – she can hardly manage polite conversation. Even though – not five minutes ago – they’d found themselves alone together, and scarcely seconds had passed before their terse pleasantries had devolved into bitter words laced with snap and bite and malice. Even now, Delphine still refused to apologize. Even now, she was still wholly _insufferable_. Even now, she was still so obstinately _gorgeous_.

 _Especially_ now, all sweaty and breathless and pressed against the back of a grimy bathroom door, her skirt rucked up over her thighs and her long fingers tangling themselves in dreadlocked hair.

So stubbornly, stupidly gorgeous.

“Co-Cosima,” Delphine pants. “ _Please_.”

Cosima only smirks and continues to tease at the band of her panties, dipping beneath them to barely brush her clit before sliding her fingers slowly up her abdomen again. 

Delphine groans and sharply arches her back when Cosima pulls away, smacking her head against the back of the door with a loud _thwac_ k. She whimpers, but whether it’s from desperation or pain Cosima can’t seem to bring herself to care.

This isn’t for Delphine, after all. Isn’t about Delphine.

She digs her fingers into the pale flesh of Delphine’s arms, nails ripping crimson from soft white, and shoves her down to her knees. Spins around and rests her own back against the cold metal door, pulling her dress up over her thighs. 

This isn’t about Delphine, after all.

Delphine is nose pressed between thighs, lips pressed against heat even before she hooks needy fingers into lacy panties and tugs down _hard_. She’s frantic, and there’s no need to urge her on, but Cosima winds her fingers through wild blonde locks and pulls her in anyway.

It’s not as if she can’t get this elsewhere. It’s not as if she needs Delphine – not that she misses _her_ , specifically. She could have this from nearly anyone.

But there is something uniquely satisfying about holding _Delphine’s_ head down between her legs. When it’s Delphine’s long, greedy fingers grasping at the backs of her thighs. When it’s Delphine’s desperate moans that vibrate from bruised lips along the length of her tongue and against her throbbing center. And truthfully, she _likes_ seeing Delphine like this: desperate and beneath her, dark mildewed tiles hard beneath her bare knees. Rickety old lights flickering a tired yellow across her skin.

That’s what this is about, after all. 

Delphine is rushed, eager, messy. There is no artistry to this, no affection. Not anymore.

And she can allow herself this, when it’s Delphine who needs her. When it’s Delphine’s weakness that brings them together. 

“ _Fuck_ , Delphine,” she whines, hips jerking up and free hand flying behind her to meet the cool steel of the door in a resounding _smack_. Without warning, Delphine has easily slipped two fingers into her, and when Cosima snaps her head back down she can see the smirk on Delphine’s lips. Hates her for it, but needs her for it all the more. 

It had only taken a few drinks, the first time. Two glasses of wine, an Oyster shooter, and a poorly timed crossing of paths on the walkway alongside the back of that restaurant, and suddenly their quiet rage had flared and bloomed into a cacophony of biting words. Of hushed accusations turned shouted slurs until just like that the wind was knocked out of her – back shoved hard and sudden against the wall, Delphine’s mouth on hers, frenetic hands slipping fast beneath her dress and tearing at lace.

That had been the first time.

And really, it was to be expected. It was not _abnormal_ , after all, to fuck your ex-girlfriend a couple of times.

But maybe not, like, _every_ time.

And this time? This time there was not even the flimsy excuse of alcohol. Cosima had scarcely set her glass on the table before ducking off to the bathroom, where poor luck found her in the dark, empty corridor – alone with Delphine. Alone with Delphine, who stood leaning against the wall. She hesitated a moment. Considered turning back on her heel. Considered departing before she was noticed. But then Delphine glanced up and met her gaze. Cosima stared back, face stone, before lifting her chin and striding resolutely forward. 

She stood stiffly next to her, arms crossed over herself.

“Hi,” she said curtly, lips pursed. She kept her gaze straight ahead, her back to the wall.

“Hello, Cosima.” There was no warmth to her tone. She didn’t even bother to turn her head to look at her.

The silence stretched long, and Cosima shifted uncomfortably. Uncrossed her arms. Crossed them again. The floor was sticky beneath her feet.

“So, is this it?” Delphine said, breaking the silence. She turned her head ever so slightly to look at Cosima. “We cannot even manage a conversation, now?”

Cosima’s face hardened. She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Still, she refused to meet Delphine’s gaze.

“I guess not.”

The bathroom door clicked open, and some stranger stumbled past them without a second glance. Delphine slipped inside, abruptly shutting the door behind her. Cosima didn’t lift her gaze from the grubby floor when she came back out again a few moments later. Saw only the heels of her boots striking the ground as she breezed past her and back to the safety that the company of the group afforded. They could be civil, with Scott and Alison and Felix around to diffuse the tension. They could present some pretense of friendliness, as long as they were not left alone. 

She was surprised, then, when she opened the door to find Delphine blocking her exit several moments later.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” Delphine demanded, her voice unsettlingly soft. She stood just on the other side of the threshold, arm an iron bar blocking Cosima’s way.

“Because we don’t _talk_ ,” Cosima snapped. “We just, like, end up yelling at each other. I’m done.”

“We are going to have to be around each other, Cosima,” she argued, unrelenting. “We have to make this work.”

“Seems to be working just fine to me,” Cosima countered viciously, laying a hand on her arm and attempting to push Delphine out of her way.

Instead, Delphine bent her arm at the elbow, releasing the doorframe and clasping Cosima’s forearm. She shoved against her a bit too hard, and the motion brought the both of them back into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind them.

“What the hell, Delphine?” Cosima snarled, and Delphine released her arm. She stepped back a pace, as if she were not altogether certain how they’d arrived in this position.

Delphine’s eyes were molten, and Cosima felt that familiar heat rising in her again – only now it was _everywhere_. Roaring in her throat, her palms, her ears, her fingertips. Washing over the insides of her thighs and flaring in her chest, her groin, in the space between her eyes. And then, quite suddenly, it was Delphine’s back against the door. Delphine’s sharp little gasp echoing off cold tile. Delphine’s fingers working frantically to twist the lock shut behind them as Cosima crashed into her. 

It was hard to believe now that that had been only moments ago. Hard to believe now that Delphine’s knees are already sunk into the floor beneath her. Now that her tongue and fingers are already working between her legs. Now, when Cosima is already so _close_.

Delphine licks at her, fingers still working a steady rhythm inside. Cosima can feel her legs beginning to tremble, and Delphine responds by urging one of her legs up over her shoulder, supporting her as best she can. Spreading her wider.

It’s a quick thing, this time. Delphine’s fingers curl just _there_ and suddenly Cosima can no longer support herself on her own. Feels herself collapsing onto Delphine’s shoulder, Delphine’s hands digging into the backs of her thighs and ass. She’s still trembling when Delphine slips her fingers out and shrugs her leg off of her shoulder. Still trembling when Delphine rises much too abruptly, nearly causing Cosima to crumple to the mildewed floor. But Delphine catches her and presses her flush up against the wall instead. She kisses her, biting hard at her bottom lip and pulling her still-shaking thigh roughly between her own legs. She whimpers as she grinds against her, and she’s so beautifully _wet_ and desperate that for a moment Cosima forgets what this is really about – forgets and loses herself in Delphine’s need instead. 

“ _J'ai besoin de toi_ ,” Delphine breathes hot against dewy skin, capturing Cosima’s hand and pressing it against her own sex. Her fingers slot themselves between Cosima’s own, palm pressing down to hold her hand there as she rocks against her.

Cosima can’t separate her own groan from Delphine’s. Doesn’t care to make sense of any of this, just now. She slips quickly inside: two fingers, and then three, and then it’s Delphine who can hardly stand. Delphine who’s grasping at her face, kissing at her neck, and frantically whispering things in French that are beginning to sound all too familiar in the most dangerous of ways.

A different kind of warmth comes rushing back to Cosima as Delphine makes little noises that sound much too close to affection for this particular brand of encounter. Delphine is stroking her face and neck with fingertips that are much too light. She’s kissing the corners of her mouth, kissing along her jaw, whispering softly to her and there’s too much _tenderness_ here. It’s not right; not for what this should be. Cosima craves the fire, the bright-hot scalding hurt of this thing. Wants to stoke these flames wild and high now and then burn this all down to ash for good. The warmth? The warmth is too dangerous. The warmth burns too long. She needs fire.

It’s now that Cosima is grateful for the familiarity of this thing. Is grateful that she knows Delphine’s body so well; knows all of the little tricks to draw her out, to make her beg if she so pleases.

But this isn’t about that.

So Cosima makes quick work of her instead. 

She draws her up sharply, and Delphine cries out. It’s a hard, strangled thing, and Cosima is glad of it. 

Delphine’s body wilts over her, and Cosima adjusts her so that most of her weight rests against the back of the door. They’re both panting. Both still.

And it’s this part that she hates the most. It’s the gathering of the pieces, the rationalization of the thing. 

How many times has it been now? Four? Five?

 _Just get out as fast as possible_ , she thinks.

When she’s mostly sure that Delphine can stand on her own she turns her back sharply and strides away. Readjusts her dress. Disentangles her ripped panties from around her ankles and tosses them in the bin. She twists the sink on and lets the icy water wash over her hands. She wrings them together, vigorously scrubbing away any traces of Delphine’s arousal. She allows herself one brief glance into the cloudy mirror – obscured with scuff marks and grime – and sees Delphine shakily readjusting her skirt and belt. She’s still blocking her exit.

Cosima remembers her drink where she left it sitting on the counter just beside Felix. Can see the little beads of condensation that must have pooled around the glass by now, assuming Felix hasn’t already drained it in her extended absence. But it’s a fair enough excuse to make quick work of this part of the thing, and she’ll use it.

But it’s Delphine who speaks first. It’s Delphine who speaks first, and Cosima finds herself boiling again. 

“This cannot happen again, Cosima.” She is resolute, but her voice still shakes.

“Yeah, well if you’d stop, like, dragging me off into dark corners and shit every time we’re alone together –”

“ _Me_?” Delphine interrupts, outraged. “ _You_ are the one who started this. _You_ are the one who keeps looking at me as if… as if…”

“As if what?” Cosima snaps, advancing on her. “ _You_ pushed me in here.”

“And you pushed me against the wall!” Delphine bites back.

“And you left!” Cosima shouts, her voice breaking a bit. She’s struck something there, and they both stand paralyzed by the reverberation of the accusation. It’s the first time either of them have brought up Delphine’s departure since… well, since...

“I tried – I wanted you to come with me,” Delphine counters lowly, her eyes downcast.

“Fuck,” Cosima curses, and there’s still venom there. “You still can’t take responsibility for anything, can you?” 

Her voice is acid, and Delphine bristles. Her back is pressed flat against the door, and Cosima is far too close. The anger radiates off of her in waves, and Delphine swears she can feel it pulsing against her own skin. She barricades herself behind folded arms, mumbling something in French that quickly devolves into exasperated laughter.

“ _C’est ridicule_ ,” she finishes, and that much Cosima understands. 

“Okay, so what then?” Cosima presses, gesturing wildly and pacing around the fusty space. The yellow light sparks and flickers shadows across her features. “We just can’t, like, be alone together? Or even around each other at all? Or we’ll end up fucking?”

“I… _merde_. Yes?” Delphine offers, running both hands through mussed hair in frustration.

“Shit,” Cosima says. She stops her pacing and their eyes meet. 

“Cosima, I –” 

But Cosima won’t let her finish. Delphine’s voice is too soft, her eyes too eager. She doesn’t know how to deal with Delphine like this, without the anger. Without the hate. Doesn’t want to _understand_. The anger is easier; the anger is safe. She’s afraid of what might tumble out of Delphine’s mouth next if it’s not harsh words and biting insults. 

“I’ll go, okay? Tell everyone I’m, like, sick or something. I don’t care.”

“Cosima,” Delphine begins, attempting to soothe her. “Please don’t. We can both –”

But Cosima is already brushing past her.

“I’ll see you around, Delphine.”

Delphine is left with only the echo of the door’s metallic _slam_ as Cosima departs. She can hear the rusted faucet as it drips steadily into the mildewed sink, but it’s the echo of Cosima’s metallic words that rings in her ears.  
  
She doesn’t move for quite some time.


	2. Back to Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to Readers: Never believe me when I tell you something will be up in “a couple of days” (oops). At any rate, here’s the second (and final) part of this little fic. This half is dedicated to OBCrack because of something to do with Tom Cruise… I’m a little hazy on the details. Thanks again to tumblweed for lending me these prompts!
> 
> Anonymous prompt: can you do one with Cosima and Delphine as exes and they’re in the same group of friends and every time they’re alone together at a get together they end up fighting and then having really hot sex and they’re like “we really need to stop doing this” but they can’t and it keeps happening and it’s rly hard bc they never rly got over each other even though they’ve tried and they just end up saying “fuck it I love you” and etc
> 
> Cophine-addict Prompt: Jealous/possessive Delphine carries Cosima off (which Cosima loves) and they have passionate sex

It’s only a few days before the ragged little scratches on her arms have healed. Only a few days before the angry bruises blooming all down her neck have faded like strange autumn leaves from vibrant violet to sickly yellow and back to milky white. It’s only days.

But weeks pass before she sees her again.

It should be easier this way. It should be easier when she’s fortunate enough to avoid physical or social proximity. When she can bury herself in her studies, can sink into dark and lonely nights in the lab. It should be.  
  
Instead, it’s just like the last time.  
  
And she can’t do this again. 

It’s one week and two days before she wakes up tasting her on her tongue. Wakes up supporting the weight of her on her chest. Wakes with the motion of her still lodged fluid in her bones. It’s impossible, of course – she’s not physically _there_ – but she can’t deny the memory of the thing. Can’t deny the peculiar residual feelings of this dream that has blurred its edges into her reality.

She stumbles out of bed – still drunk with sleep – and staggers to the sink. Splashes cool water onto her face. Glances into the mirror. Finds her cheeks flushed. Sighs.  
  
She’ll have Cosima in her dreams, it seems, even when her conscious mind yearns to forget her. The memories of this? It’s too difficult, considering what they have become. She does not need these cruel reminders of the way things used to be between them.  
  
But her subconscious seems to have other intentions.  
  
She considers, for a moment, transferring programs. Running from this. But she shakes her head, immediately dismissing it as a ridiculous notion. She could relinquish her claim on their many mutual friends, to lose her place there. Perhaps then these dreams would fade? But no. She’s already given up more than Cosima knows; she will not give any more. And perhaps it is unfair for her to expect forgiveness, when Cosima doesn’t _know_. When all she sees is Delphine’s departure, Delphine’s abandonment. Delphine’s ambition.  
  
“ _C’est ridicule_ ,” Delphine laughs, and her reflection laughs back at her.

No, she would not tell her. Not then, and certainly not now.

“ _Idiots, the both of you_ ,” Felix’s voice rings in her ears. “ _If you’d both just bloody_ talk _to each other… But no. You want to be stubborn and miserable. Fine. Just don’t come running to me to moaning about it any longer, yeah?_ ”

Delphine twists on the shower faucet. Strips down. Folds her sleep clothes and drops them neatly into the laundry bin.  
  
_Perhaps_ , she thinks, stepping into the shower, _Felix is not wrong_. _Perhaps they do need to… talk._  
  
But she remembers gasping in rancid air as Cosima’s fingers pushed roughly into her. Remembers the cool steel of the door against her back, the bite of Cosima’s nails into her arms, the warmth of her mouth at her neck. Her pulse quickens.  
_  
Perhaps Cosima was right, then. They did not talk. Did not seem able to manage it._

She tilts her head back and lets the warm water cascade over her face. Breathes deeply and drinks in the steamy air.  
  
Perhaps it did not matter – perhaps there was no _right_ here. Maybe it was only important that she changed _something_. Changed anything. That she altered this cycle in some small way. Derailed them from this inevitable track that circled round and round and round through the same maddeningly useless series of events.

Because forgetting Cosima, it seemed, was not an option. Not now. Not when everything still feels so unfinished.

She rubs at her temples, letting the warm water stream all down her back. Tries to breathe. Tries to relax. Tries to forget.  
  
But instead her thoughts drift back again, back again. Back to Cosima’s apartment. Back to before Germany, before the dreams, before whatever _this_ has become. 

* * *

 “Cosima… please. Come with me,” Delphine pleaded. She felt the tears rising in her eyes, beginning to obstruct her vision, but she refused to blink them away.

“ _Come with you_?” Cosima spat back at her, incredulous. She was pacing about the room, hands and fingers and bangles and rings flashing about with her words. It was dizzying.  
  
“Yes, I… It’s all been arranged,” Delphine protested, her tone now bordering on the defensive. “There is a spot for you. Dr. Leekie says that he would be happy to take two students wi–”  
  
“You got him to put me on his research trip,” Cosima repeated flatly. Delphine groaned. They’d already _had_ this part of the conversation, and she was losing patience.

“Yes! For _us_ , Cosima. I thought, I thought you wanted…”  
  
“ _What_ , Delphine?” Cosima demanded, advancing on her. “What did you think? That I would just pick up and go to Germany with you?”  
  
“You said you wished you could come with me!”  
  
“I said I didn’t want you to _go_. I said I wanted to be with you.”  
  
“And now you can be!” Delphine nearly yelled, startling herself. She could feel the hairs pricking up on her arms. Could feel her skin vibrating. She took a deep breath and reeled herself back in. “We can go together, Cosima,” she tried more softly, and it sounded too close to begging for her taste. But she would accept it. She would beg if she had to. “You applied, too. You wanted to go, and now–”  
  
“You don’t get it, do you?” Cosima bit back, eyes gleaming something dangerous. “You can’t just… ugh. You didn’t even _ask_ me.”  
  
“Cosima,” she began gently, reaching out to her. “Please… I thought…I didn’t mean…”  
  
But Cosima pulled sharply away.

“Go on your trip, Delphine. I hope it’s worth it.”

Delphine’s eyes widened in shock. Her nostrils flared, and her lips parted and trembled. Cosima had always been all warmth and fire to her – even when they fought – but never this _coldness_. Never this deadness behind her eyes. Delphine shivered, and the tears finally spilled hot over her cheeks. Her body was buzzing, but all she could feel was _cold_. _Cold_ , and the startlingly heavy emptiness that had lodged itself so suddenly into her chest.

Truthfully, she had not been prepared for this. Had been taken quite off guard by Cosima’s quick temper. Of all of the ways this could have gone, she never expected _this_ reaction. This fury. This ice. She’d thought – perhaps naively – that Cosima would be grateful. Thrilled, even. At the very least, appreciative of the gesture. Their peace had been tenuous for weeks – ever since Delphine had accepted this research position – but somehow now in her attempt to repair the damage Delphine had instead managed to make things so, so very much worse.

“Cosima – ” she began tenderly, reaching out again for her hand. But it was too late. Cosima cut her off, barbed and icy.  
  
“Don’t expect me to be here when you get back,” she dug in, twisting the knife with a turn of her back. Nothing in her voice betrayed any weakness, but Delphine could swear she saw her shoulders shaking. Could swear she heard her breath catching in the silence. But Cosima remained there with arms crossed and back turned and spine straight until Delphine remembered herself. Remembered that she could not stay here. Realized that there was nowhere to go from this. Not now.  
  
And so she left.

* * *

 

She wonders almost daily if she could have done anything differently. If any alteration of her actions would have mattered, or if Cosima’s mind had been made up from the moment she said _yes_ to that position. That any action she took from there would always be marked _betrayal_. Marked departure. Marked abandonment.  
  
Yes, it’s weeks before she sees her again. Although weeks without Cosima are never truly weeks without Cosima. Not when she seems to remain so deeply woven into her psyche. 

And it will always happen when she sees her, she thinks. Even despite her best laid plans. Despite her best intentions.  
  
And she can see her there. In the corner. With that woman.  
  
She feels her pulse thrumming _faster, faster_.  
  
She gazes intently. Takes a sip of her wine. Smiles politely at Alison as she passes.  
  
_Faster, faster still._  
  
Her eyes snap back to that corner of the yard. Her fingers close more tightly around her glass. It’s a lovely summer evening, and Cosima wears a tight sleeveless dress so deeply violet that it borders on black. Even from across the yard Delphine can see her rings glinting, reflecting in the moonlight. There is a stiffness to her, although she’s smiling. Although she’s laughing. Her counterpart is all easy movements and flowing white garments. All colorful jewelry and easy laughter. She’s pretty, Delphine notes, and plainly _interested_.  
  
Delphine feels the little hairs pricking up at the back of her neck. Feels the warmth brewing in her chest. She takes another small sip of her wine.  
  
Her pulse is fluttering behind her ears now. _Faster still, faster still._  
  
And she would like to blame the wine for the way she bristles when Cosima flashes this woman a toothy smile, but half a glass is hardly an excuse. This can’t happen here – not in Alison’s home. Not at a fundraiser for schoolchildren. No, she will pull Cosima aside later and _talk_ to her. She can be civil for now, for Alison’s sake.  
  
Still, as she watches delicate fingers dance across Cosima’s thigh and linger just _there_ , she can’t seem to help herself.  
  
_This can’t happen again_ , she thinks. 

Her pulse is thundering in her ears.

Her free hand is balled into itself before she realizes what she’s done, and she can already feel blood blooming where she’s dug her nails too hard into the soft flesh of her palm. Her glass is abandoned on the table and she’s striding across the yard before she’s fully formed any sort of plan in her head. Thinks that, maybe, she will kindly ask for a word alone. That she will perhaps simply invite herself to sit with them. She imagines herself calm, composed. She imagines tilting Cosima off-balance. Imagines cleverly inspiring discomfort and sabotaging whatever _connection_ is forming here. Perhaps then, later, they can finally talk. Perhaps then they can finally solve this.

She doesn’t expect her hastily formed plan to backfire so spectacularly. Has always presumed herself to be a logical woman. Has preferred to believe that she possesses control over her emotions.  
  
But seeing Cosima with this woman? Well.

She finds that, perhaps, she has overestimated her own self-restraint.

She surprises all three of them when she simply grabs Cosima by the wrist and pulls her up from her seat without a word. She barely hears whatever protests Cosima is muttering at her, and she is most certainly protesting. But she isn’t _stopping_. She isn’t pulling away. Simply follows behind her and makes no move to free her hand from Delphine’s grasp.

Delphine leads them inside the house and up the stairs. Truthfully, she hasn’t exactly thought this through. Only knows that they’re lucky to find the house empty. Only knows that she needs Cosima alone. Only knows that she’s burning.

They’ve barely rounded the top of the stairs when she spins around and pins Cosima against the wall, one hand fisted roughly in her hair. Cosima’s mouth opens in a gasp and Delphine kisses her _hard_ , pressing her flush against the wall and holding her head in place. Cosima groans into her mouth and Delphine can feel her nails raking along her back.

“Delphine, what the fuck are you doing?” Cosima protests, but she’s grasping Delphine tightly, biting into the pulse point of Delphine’s neck and burying eager fingers into her hair.  
  
There’s still so much anger vibrating in her, but there’s something else simmering beneath it. Something Delphine suddenly feels the need to claw out from her. Let Cosima have her anger, she decides. She’ll accept it. But there’s still something else here.  
  
Cosima’s hand has already slipped between them, and she’s pressing against Delphine’s shorts. Groping at her belt. Grasping at her face with her free hand and pulling her mouth down to meet hers.  
  
_Je t’aime_ , she thinks, and hates herself for it.  
  
She can’t change this, she realizes – can’t change this idiot magnetism between them – but perhaps there is one small thing she can change. Because what’s the use of pretending any longer? She’s already miserable. Already alone. She has nothing to lose here, so she may as well show her hand. May as well open herself completely, offer herself completely.  
  
_Je t’aime_ , she thinks again, testing the feel of the words.  
  
Delphine brings both hands up to cradle Cosima’s face as she kisses her, but her tenderness is met with a sharp tongue and harsh lips. Cosima’s hand has finally succeeded in unfastening her belt, and now she’s tugging roughly at her shorts. Delphine pushes her hands away and instead slips her own hands down Cosima’s sides, fitting them just below the curve of her ass.  
  
“Come,” she says simply, and lifts Cosima off the ground. Cosima’s legs wrap tight around her waist. She’s still kissing her, tongue licking at the roof of her mouth, as Delphine carries her into the nearest bedroom.

She’s finished with rushed encounters in bathrooms and hallways, she decides. She’ll have Cosima in a bed.  
  
“ _Fuck_ , Delphine,” Cosima groans as they collapse together onto the bed.  
  
“I want you,” Delphine breathes between frantic kisses to Cosima’s neck, to her collarbone, to her sternum. She grabs a handful of dreadlocks and twists Cosima’s head to meet hers, meeting her in a bruising kiss. “ _Toujours_. _J'ai envie de toi_.”  
  
Cosima says nothing – only moans, only cants her hips upwards and pulls Delphine down into her.

Delphine’s shorts are around her ankles and Cosima’s dress is up over her head only moments later. Cosima tries to go fast – tries to make this like the last time. Like _every_ time since Delphine has returned from Germany. But Delphine won’t allow it – not anymore. Because Delphine – much more so than Cosima – knows what this is really about.  
  
_I came back for you_ , Delphine thinks fervently, grasping Cosima’s jaw with an impatient hand and kissing her hard on the mouth. Cosima whimpers.  
  
“Delphine, this isn’t – _fuck_.” Cosima groans as Delphine rolls her over onto her stomach. Delphine unclasps her own bra and tosses it aside. They’re both fully naked now, and Delphine straddles Cosima’s ass. She places a hand in the center of her back, holding her down on the bed as she grinds into her. Cosima squirms beneath her, and she can feel the pressure of Delphine’s pelvis moving against her. Can feel her wet heat. She moans again, relaxing beneath her weight. Letting herself melt into this.  
  
Delphine leans forward over her, pinning Cosima more fully to the bed. She’s covering her now, kissing all down along her shoulders and back. She moves down her body, trailing her lips down her lower back and nipping at her ass. Enjoys the feeling of Cosima shuddering beneath her. Basks in this power just for a moment. She lightly trails her fingers between Cosima’s legs before slipping her hands around to the fronts of Cosima’s thighs and pulling her back so that she’s propped up on her knees and elbows.

Delphine strokes her nails along Cosima’s back, rubs at her hips. She wants to touch all of her, but she needs Cosima to want this. Needs her to say it. Needs it to be _different_ , this time. She lets her hand fall between Cosima’s legs. Finds her swollen and wet. Rubs light circles against her clit before parting her and slipping her fingers just barely inside.  
  
“I want to fuck you,” Delphine whispers against her skin, and Cosima groans. She’s not usually so vulgar. “Do you want me to?”  
  
Cosima says nothing. Just whimpers and pushes back against Delphine’s fingers.  
  
“Cosima,” she says, slipping her fingers out and letting them trail wet down along the inside of Cosima’s thigh, “I won’t. You have to say it.”  
  
“God, Delphine. _Yes_ ,” she demands. “Just fuck me.”  
  
She can feel how wet Cosima is for her – can feel her own arousal dripping down her thighs. She’s aching for her, but she won’t – not until Cosima tells her what she needs to hear.

“ _Non_ ,” Delphine says, shaking her head. “Say you want me.”  
  
_Love me_ , she thinks. _Forgive me_.

“Delphine, just… _ugh_ ,” Cosima groans as Delphine’s fingers tease around her clit.  
  
“Cosima…” She moves up her body to kiss at her shoulder, to suck lightly at the base of her neck. She lets her hand trail up from between Cosima’s legs to stroke her stomach instead. Cosima twists her torso around to capture Delphine’s lips with her own, and Delphine finally allows her to flip over onto her back. She straddles her, grinding her own sex down into Cosima’s.  
  
_Dis-moi_ , she thinks. _S'il te plait._  

Delphine dips down to trace her tongue around Cosima’s nipple. Sucks gently there, nips lightly at it before traveling lower. She finally settles between her legs, kissing the insides of her thighs. Kissing at the wiry patch of hair just above her sex. Hovering just above her before stopping herself and pulling back. Instead, she strokes a finger lightly across Cosima’s sex. Cosima shudders and moans, clawing at the bed sheets. She spreads her legs wider and arches her hips up towards Delphine’s mouth. Delphine darts her tongue out, running it over her own lips in anticipation. God, how she _wants_. But she won’t – not if Cosima won’t say it.  
  
“Cosima,” she prompts again, and this time bites at the soft flesh of her thigh. Anything to keep herself from giving in. Cosima’s hips jerk up, and she moans again.  
  
“ _Yes_ , Delphine,” she finally relents, fisting her hands in the bed sheets. “Fuck, yes. I want _you_.”  
  
They weren’t _exactly_ the words she’d hoped to hear, but with Cosima so wet and so desperate beneath her (and with her own resolve so rapidly crumbling) they would have to do. It was something, at least.  
  
Cosima cries out when Delphine finally leans in and licks all the way up her throbbing sex. Delphine smiles, circles her tongue slowly. Sucks lightly, dips her tongue just barely inside to tease. Cosima squirms and begs, presses an eager palm into the back of her head, but this isn’t like the last time. Or the time before that. She’ll take her time here. It’s not a fast thing, now. No rushed desperation. No push for dominance. Delphine makes no sharp movements with her tongue. There is no urgency here, no punishment. Instead, Cosima is open to her. Instead, Delphine luxuriates in this. Draws her out. Will draw her out, as long as she pleases.  
  
_Je t’aime_ , she thinks, but she won’t say it. Hums into her instead.  
  
“Delphine, I need – ” but she’s cut off by her own moan when Delphine slips two fingers inside of her and brushes her thumb against her clit. She begins her rhythm, and Cosima’s hips rise in time to meet her thrusts. She adjusts her position so she’s on top of Cosima again, kissing her and then burying her face in the crook of her neck.  
  
She shouldn’t, but now she finds herself longing to whisper to Cosima how she’d dreamt of her nearly every night. She wants to tell her how miserable she’d been in Germany. That those dreams had nearly driven her mad. That she’d wanted so desperately to forget her. That she _couldn’t_ forget her. Wants to confess everything – to tell her how she’d been given the opportunity to stay on there, to head a new project, but had instead chosen to cut her trip short. She’d sworn to herself that she’d never tell Cosima _that_. Would never let her know that she possessed that power over her. But now… now she finds that she simply wants her to have the truth.  
  
_I came back for you_ , she thinks desperately. _I came back for you._  
  
Cosima’s thighs start to tremble, and her hips begin to jerk out of rhythm. _No, not yet_ , Delphine pleads. She’s not ready for this to be over – not when she’s so unsure of how the aftermath of this encounter will play out. Not this time. Will Cosima run off again? Will she refuse to speak to her? Will she deny all of this? If this truly is the last time – as Delphine suddenly fears it may be – then she needs it to last. This can’t be it.

But Delphine feels Cosima’s walls tightening around her fingers, and Cosima comes against her hand with both hands digging into the flesh of Delphine’s back. Delphine slides quickly back down between Cosima’s legs again to kiss and lick her as her body begins to relax. She laps gently at her, tenderly kissing the soft skin there, and breathes her in long after Cosima’s hips have stilled. As long as Cosima will let her.

 _Je t’aime,_ she thinks, and she fears she’s laid herself bare to be broken again. _Je t’aime._  
  
“C’mere,” Cosima says finally, guiding her back up her body and kissing her gently on the lips. Cosima’s tongue dips into her mouth, and Delphine sucks lightly on it. Hums against her lips. She’s still wet – still aching – but she thinks she prefers this tenderness, for now. Much better than the hurried, hateful orgasms Cosima has drawn from her these past few months.

After a moment Cosima pulls away, and Delphine braces herself for whatever will come next. Closes her eyes and hopes Cosima will at least be gentle with her before she leaves. If it has to end, then she wants to remember it like this.  
  
Cosima brings her fingertips to rest gently against Delphine’s cheek. They’re side by side on the bed now, and Delphine can feel her staring (although she can’t bring herself to look back at her). Finally, she reluctantly looks up to meet her gaze. Her glasses are off, Delphine notes, although she doesn’t remember exactly when that happened. Her eyelids flutter closed again and her breath catches before she lifts her gaze once more to meet Cosima’s unwavering one.

“I love you, Delphine,” she tells her shakily. “I wish I didn’t, but… fuck, I love you.”  
  
Delphine bites down on her lip in an attempt to stay its trembling, but the tears welling in her eyes betray her nonetheless. Even her shoulders begin to shake.  
  
“Shit, no. Delphine, I just meant –”

But Delphine quiets her with a kiss, pushing her back onto the bed and covering her with her body once again.  
  
“ _Oui, je sais_ ,” she tells her, smiling through her tears. “I understand, Cosima. _Je t'aime aussi._ ”

“Just, like, don’t leave me again… okay?” Cosima says, cupping her cheek and stroking circles with the pad of her thumb. Delphine leans into it, more content than she’s been in months. “You have to talk to me. You can’t just, like, make decisions for both of us.”

“ _Je promets_ ,” she assures her, dipping down for a kiss. “I’m sorry, Cosima. I, ehm, I never meant to... _Merde_. I wanted to talk to you, but you wouldn’t…” 

“I know,” Cosima says. And then, more stiffly: “I’m sorry for, like… shutting you out or whatever. I shouldn’t have, like… shit. Is this even a good idea again?” she asks, gesturing between the two of them.

“I don’t know,” Delphine answers honestly, sliding off from on top of her to embrace her from behind. She nuzzles into Cosima’s neck, kissing her shoulder and breathing into her skin. She’s still aching for her, but there’ll be time for that later. For now she’s simply grateful for _this_.  
  
“Like, we sort of still have a lot of shit to talk about,” Cosima continues.  
  
“Yes,” Delphine answers, somewhat reluctant. It’s true, of course. They still have a good deal to sort through. But at least this is a start. An alteration of whatever toxic pattern they’d fallen into. Cosima, willing to speak with her again. Cosima, acknowledging that perhaps she was wrong. Cosima, _with_ her like this. She hooks one leg around Cosima’s own and presses more tightly against her.

“Wow, you’re still so wet,” Cosima moans. “Wait, you didn’t…shit. You didn’t come, did you? Shit. I am such an asshole.”

Delphine chuckles, only squeezing her tighter.

“It’s okay, Cosima. We, ehm, we probably shouldn’t… not in Alison’s bed.”

“Whatever. This is her guestroom.” Cosima shrugs, smirking. “And we’ve sort of already, like, defiled the sheets, so…”

Cosima flips around so she’s facing Delphine again. She’s smiling that stupid, cheeky smile, and Delphine can’t help but grin back at her. Can’t help but kiss her again. It’s been too long. Much, much too long since she’s seen Cosima direct anything remotely resembling affection towards her. She’s missed this playfulness more than she knew.

Cosima lets her hand drift down between Delphine’s legs, but long fingers catch her at the wrist and stop her. 

“You can make it up to me later,” Delphine whispers into the shell of her ear before taking the fleshy part between her teeth and tugging softly.

“Hmmmmm, okay,” she hums. “So, ummm… how long were you planning on staying at this party?”

“I think I was just about to leave,” Delphine responds playfully.

“Great,” Cosima answers, and Delphine can feel her warmth radiating all around them. “But first…” 

Cosima’s head is between her thighs before she can think to stop her, and she finds herself spreading her legs for her, urging her on with her body even as her voice cautions against this. 

“Cosima…” she warns her, but it’s halfhearted at best. _She’s stubborn_ , Delphine thinks. _So wonderfully, insufferably stubborn._

But she loves her in spite of it. Loves her because of it. Even if it sometimes drives her to the brink of insanity.

It’s only a few hours before Alison finds out about her guest room. Before it is made clear to them that they’ll be responsible for the replacement of her bed sheets. It’s only days before everyone _knows_. Before Felix is sending texts that say _Finally_ and _Hallelujah_ and _Not in my bed_. Only days before things have regained some semblance of their old normalcy.

It’s three weeks and five days before they finally admit to being together again. Only four months before Delphine finally gives in and terminates the lease on her own apartment. It was empty most nights then, at any rate.

It’s sometime after that that Delphine finally stops counting the days. Stops counting the weeks. No longer sees any need to. Instead, simply lets the days float softly into one another. Only counts the hours in the lab until she can come home. Only settles in to this increasingly familiar sense of comfort. Of nights spent pressed against Cosima’s skin, of kisses playfully stolen in the back corners of the lab, of whispered _I love yous_ and _Je t’aimes_.  
  
Because that’s what this was always about, after all.


End file.
